


Aftermath of a Proposal

by Tim (boywonder)



Category: Final Fantasy X
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-07
Updated: 2011-05-07
Packaged: 2017-10-19 03:24:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/196333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boywonder/pseuds/Tim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seymour is a twisted asshole, who always gets what he wants.</p><p>I'm sorry that this doesn't quite suit the prompt. I couldn't get him quite as sadistic as I meant to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftermath of a Proposal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [godsbow_lithium](https://archiveofourown.org/users/godsbow_lithium/gifts).



Seymour watched Lady Yuna and her numerous guardians exit his home, with half a smile on his face. Sir Auron, an _unsent_. That was a development he had not expected. Of course, it made plenty of sense to him. As a Maester of Yevon, and one who had become close to the Grand Maester through his own machinations, he was privilege to the fact that once dead, people did not _have_ to be sent to the Farplane. With his father, it had been necessary. And to become Sin, he would most likely have to die, as well. He was resigned to it, and even welcomed the prospect, with all he had learned.

Would Yuna? Certainly, she was already resigned to die. She was even _resolved_ to die. He admired that resolve. He respected it. He _wanted_ it. To be a Summoner at all, Yuna surely had more resolve than it seemed at first glance. She appeared weak, fragile. But there was a steel core in her. If only that core could be tempered…

And who better to do it than he? Surely there could be no one better.

He dismissed Tromell with barely any real acknowledgement. Tromell was a sniveling lackey, and not much else. He had been disgustingly devoted to Jyscal, and was now just as devoted to Seymour. Seymour did not know - or care - if Tromell was aware of the _untoward circumstances_ surrounding Jyscal's death. Either way, he had no use of company that was there just to grovel. Even before he had been named as Maester, he had grown tired of receiving attention simply because he was his father's son. He could not determine if that kind of attention was better than the attention he had received as a child. He had always been _different_ , and his childhood had not been something he wished to dwell on. Adulthood was going much smoother, in part because his childhood had hardened him.

He stood on the stairs for a time, considering all that had led to this point. He was confident that Yuna would agree to a marriage, eventually. Even if she turned him down right now, he would find a way. Seymour was someone who always got what he wanted, even if he had to remove others from the picture in order to do so. He considered his marriage to Yuna - and their joint "victory" over Sin - an inevitable end. Was she yet aware that the Final Aeon would become the next Sin? So many Summoners were unaware. The thought of changing Spira, bringing death and peace to many more than just his father…it was a goal he was sure that even someone so soft as Yuna would understand, if made to.

Seymour called one of his attendants. He would not wait here for Yuna's answer. They were going to the Farplane, but that was so close. After that, her pilgrimage would take her across the Thunder Plains and into Macalania Woods. Then, to Macalania Temple - the Temple that he himself was appointed to stand attendance to. He would await her there. It seemed a much more fitting place to greet the Lady who would become his wife, as it was considered holy.

He took his attendants - Tromell unfortunately counted among them - and headed for the Temple. Yuna had asked him to wait, after all. Now, she would have to wait to give him her answer. One exchange for another. In his mind, it was rather fair. He wasn't, admittedly, the fairest of people. But in this, he could manage it. Politics were tiring, and waiting was abominable. Yet, it would end with Yuna at his side, and _that_ was worth waiting for.

On the journey, he thought of little else besides the young Lady Summoner. She was the kind of person who would have spent all her time working to become a Summoner, and wouldn't have spent any time on meaningless dalliances. She was untouched, unspoiled. She was, perhaps, even naive about what marriage would physically require. In that, of course, he would be a very thorough educator. As a slightly younger man, he would have thought such a prize as Yuna to be out of his grasp. But he had learned that there was really nothing he could not have or achieve, as long as he was willing to do it through any means necessary.

Seymour thought of Yuna's soft, pale form under his hands. He thought of her lips parting to allow him access. He thought of her legs doing the same. She was such a modest person. Could he change that, if only behind closed doors? He believed so. That core inside her, made of steel, surely had more than one aspect to it. He intended to open it, to open _her_ , and discover all that she had.

The soft, secretive smile never left his lips, the whole journey to the Temple.

Once at the Temple, Seymour sent for another attendant, and retired to his own private room there. It had been Jyscal's before him, but in the short time since his death, Seymour had had new furniture brought here. He had brought some of the items in this room here himself, in a trunk he had refused to unlock, no matter who had asked him to do so.

He had quickly hushed anyone who questioned what he wanted anything changed for, here in the Temple. As a Maester of Yevon, he simply expected his word to be followed without hesitation, question, or complaint. It was not quite that simple - not yet - but it was getting there. He had been working on _that_ since before he'd been officially given the title, after all. His father's ways were of no concern to him. He still practiced Yevon as he saw fit. His goal, however, was much different than his father's. And the other Guado did not really know, or dare to ask him. Those close to him now feared him as much as respected to him. He was more than fine with that position. Fear was better than disdain. If they hated him, let them hate him for his actions and not his mixed blood.

The attendant appeared, as requested. He was very young, and had come here to the Temple to become more educated in the ways of Yevon. Seymour couldn't help that today, he was going to get more than he bargained for.

The boy, of course, was a full-blooded Guado. His skin was darker than Seymour's, with a much different tone underlying it. He was not as tall as Seymour - and perhaps he wouldn't be, quite - but he was still tall, and thinner than a human his age would have been. The proportions of his body were different than Seymour's had been at his age. His hair was a different texture; Seymour didn't need to touch him to know that. He was aware of what the human blood in his veins granted him. There was a time he'd have been jealous of the boy in front of him, but that time was passed. Seymour had power, now, and respect. He had men and women that admired him, called him beautiful, handsome, dreamy. Other words he had no use for.

This boy in front of him was, perhaps, beautiful as well. Full-blooded Guado were not, always, in Seymour's eyes. But this one was. He'd been aware of that, of course, or wouldn't have sent for him. He didn't tend to touch those that were anything less than beautiful with his own hands. The boy was not as lovely as Yuna, but who could be? Yuna was, as yet, an untouchable prize, waiting to be unwrapped.

Seymour's smile widened. He had chosen a male attendant to keep his mind off of Yuna, but the comparison came unbidden, all the same. Ah, well.

He held one long-fingered hand out to the uncertain boy before him.

"Are you frightened?" he asked, uninterested in the answer.

The boy shook his head, but the way he did it was more answer than the action was. Of course he was afraid. And why not? Seymour was imposing, and his height had little to do with it.

"Your fears are unfounded, for the moment," Seymour said, his tone never changing, his smile never fading.

The boy hesitated, but Seymour was the leader of his race. Of course he wouldn't refuse so simple a thing as an outstretched hand, would he? The answer was no. The boy stepped forward, placed his hand in Seymour's, and allowed himself to be led into the center of the room.

There, Seymour had the boy stand while he undressed him. He left all his own robes on, of course; they wouldn't have to come off for this. He was on something of a schedule, after all. By now, Yuna and her guardians would be coming this way, wouldn't they? He couldn't judge how fast they would travel, but Yuna would certainly not dawdle. No matter her answer, she would want the matter cleared up.

The boy stiffened under his touch, but did not protest or refuse him. Even Seymour did not know _everything_ , and could only guess at what the boy was thinking. Did he want this to continue? If given the option, would he pull all his clothes back on in a hurry and rush out, embarrassed? Guado did not blush easily, so there was nothing telling in his skin color. Seymour could feel his pulse race under his hands, but that could have been from anything at all.

He imagined that if it were a human here before him, he would have more trouble with them. Guado were not quite as prone to emotional outbursts. The boy would react as he was instructed, until it hurt and he had no choice but to result to baser emotional response. But a human would blush and cover themselves, undoubtedly. So much pride and easily shamed.

Would Yuna be any different? Would she stand before him, nude and unashamed to be so? He very much doubted that. She had blushed simply at his proposal. Removing her clothes would certainly be more difficult than this had been.

Ah, well, there went all thoughts of distracting himself from thoughts of Yuna. There had never been much hope of it, though, had there?

Seymour moved to the wall moved a cloth. The cloth had been hung there not for decoration, but for practical purposes. Behind the cloth, Seymour had affixed chains on the walls. There would be no point in the boy running from him, should fear take hold, after all.

That, and his hands had better things to do than hold someone still.

"Do I have to ask for your cooperation, or will you give it to me freely?" he asked, again uninterested in the answer.

"What do you want me to do, Maester Seymour?" the boy asked, quietly. There was fear in his voice, but not very much. Perhaps not _enough_.

Seymour raised an eyebrow at that. "Does that matter?"

The Guado boy considered this for a minute. Seymour assumed he was arguing with himself internally. After a minute or so ticked by, the boy shook his head.

"No."

Meaning "no it doesn't matter," Seymour took that to mean.

He led the boy to the chains on the wall. They were designed for Guado limbs specifically, though they _could_ have been modified for a human if they needed to. Seymour only really had interest in _one_ human, and he couldn't imagine chaining her. He wanted cooperation from her without too much coercion, and without forcing it. No, Yuna would never see these chains.

When he was convinced that the chains would hold without cutting in, he stepped back. He tied a cloth around the boy's eyes, and leaned down and whispered.

"You will have to remember that even bloodshed can be holy."

The boy did not answer.

Seymour made a note to remember that line, if it was necessary, to convince Yuna that his way was the correct way.

He unlocked the trunk he'd brought here and found a whip with a small spike at the end. Not _too much_ bloodshed, not today, because he didn't have the time to clean it up.

"Please, do tell me if this hurts. I will have to adjust accordingly."

The boy, of course, did no such thing. The only sounds he made were cries as the spike tore into his skin.

Seymour paused, after a time, to admire the form before him. There was a knock on the door, and a muffled voice.

"Maester Seymour, your visitors approach."

"Very well," he called back.

He turned back to the boy. "It is a shame that I have to leave you like this. I shouldn't be long. When I come back, I can continue you, or I will give you the option of never experiencing pain again - an option that you are lucky to have long before so many others in Spira that suffer. Think on that."

He locked the door behind him and went to greet his guests. He had been interrupted earlier than he'd have liked, of course. He would have to hope that Yuna's answer was _yes_ , so that he would have a proper outlet for his frustrations sooner, rather than later.

The Maester smiled again, as he went to meet the woman he already thought of as his future bride.


End file.
